i keep telling people i am good with pain. i am the kind of person who will rate my pain at eight on a scale of one to ten and still refuse to take painkillers. on most days, its because i hate medicine. but on other days its because there is something about pain that fascinates me. morbid i know.pain is rather grounding; physical or otherwise. it is a reminder that bliss doesn’t last. that things could go south any moment. i think it’s the universe’s way of teaching us to appreciate our happy times. and the good thing with pain, its that that feeling stays; long after you’ve been healed. long after you get over someone. you never forget how hard it was to swallow food, or move your limbs. you never forget those days you missed someone so bad, crying is the only thing you could do about it. you never forget those days you woke up feeling so disoriented and unmotivated. and in your own little way, you strive to make sure you never feel that way again. you take your health more seriously. you look before you fall. you fall with some grace. and while evading pain is impossible, you get hurt again and again. but you learn to deal with it. you learn to laugh at yourself when it hurts. you learn to ignore it. you learn to live your life with pain. you learn that pain never held anyone back. so maybe that’s why i never rate pain beyond an eight. because i have learnt that it could always be worse. that there are people who are going through worse. so i reserve my nine and ten for joy, for happiness. and someday, i know i will be able to rate my happiness at ten. but till then, i keep reminding myself; that things should be better, but they could also be worse. so i am calling it even.